She protested, of course, but he asked her impatiently if she wanted to die of cold, and in the end she had no choice. She made him wait, though, while she leafed through the pages, picking out those without pictures on either side, making sure he took those first. He said nothing as he ripped them from the binding, one by one, and twisted them and crumpled them into balls, and placed them atop the flames, then cupped his hands over them and blew gently.
At first nothing happened. Tova wondered if maybe the holy words couldn’t be destroyed, that they were somehow protected by God. But then the edges began to curl, going first yellow and then brown and then black, and that blackness spread slowly across the surface, which shrivelled and hissed and smoked, until suddenly it all went up in a mass of writhing orange tongues: line after line of intricate ink curls dissolving into searing brightness, vanishing into smoke and ash.
One sheet, then another. Then another. Hours and days some poor monk spent hunched over his writing desk, copying out by candlelight, slaving through summer heat and frosty winter. Gone in moments.
What would Guthred say if he knew they were burning his precious book? Would he be consoled by the fact that the word of God was granting warmth and life? She hopes so.
Carefully now, trying not to make a sound so as not to disturb her lady, she opens the book’s cover. The gold panels are dented, and a couple of the garnets are missing from its setting.
The first page shows the Christ figure with his halo. She doesn’t like his dark eyes staring back at her, judging her, and so she turns past it quickly, past the writing that Guthred called the preface, until she comes to some large letters surrounded by flowers and angels decked in green and red robes and blowing trumpets.
‘In principio creavit Deus caelum et terram,’ her lady murmurs as she raises her head. ‘In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.’
‘Is that what it says?’
Merewyn nods. ‘That’s what it says.’ She leans forward, turns the page and carries on reading, her brow furrowed in concentration as she traces her finger back and forth along the lines. ‘“And the earth was void and empty, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the spirit of God moved over the waters. And God said: may light be made. And light was made. And God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from the darkness. He called the light Day and the darkness Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.”’
There are more pictures on the facing page, these ones less brightly coloured. A naked man with only leaves to preserve his modesty, who must be Adam, surrounded by all manner of animals: horses and dogs and stags and fish and birds, and what she supposes must be some kind of cow except that it has a long neck and spindly legs and two great humps upon its back.
She has never seen anything like it. The creature is so strange she can’t help but laugh, for a moment forgetting where they are, and how hungry and cold she is. ‘What’s that supposed to be?’
‘I think they call it a camel. Leofa, my tutor, told me about them once. He said you find them in Egypt and other faraway places in the east. They’re a bit like horses, I think, but they can go for days, weeks even, without having to drink.’
‘Weeks?’
‘That’s what he said. I think he must have been wrong, or else he was teasing me.’
‘Will you read me some more?’
Merewyn sighs. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t practised my Latin in so long. I’m not sure I can.’
‘Please?’
*
Merewyn is asleep again by the time Beorn returns with armfuls of bracken and branches, some of it dry, some of it less so. He sets it all down in the corner, then comes and joins Tova by the fire. Still limping. A dusting of snow upon his lank hair, upon his shoulders and his sleeves.
He winces in pain as he sits down gingerly beside her, clutching at a spot just below his ribs.
‘It happened during the fight,’ he explains. ‘A graze, that’s all.’
‘Let me see.’
‘I’ve cleaned it out with snow as best I can. There’s nothing more to be done. I’ll live. Believe me, I’ve suffered far worse in my time. Don’t worry for my sake.’
He doesn’t look at her as he speaks, she notices.
‘So what now?’ she asks.
‘We wait. That’s all we can do. We can’t go anywhere, although at the same time neither can the enemy. We’re safe for today at least.’
‘What are we supposed to do for food?’
‘Try not to think about it. Just keep as warm as you can. That’s what we did when we were camped in the woods near Stedehamm. After a while you forget about your stomach growling.’
‘And what if it keeps on snowing? What if we’re stuck here until it thaws?’
‘I don’t know. You ask too many questions, girl.’
‘Stop calling me that.’
‘What?’
‘Girl. Stop calling me “girl”. I don’t like it. I’m not a child any more. And my name is Tova. You know that.’
Beorn sits for a long time without saying anything. Just watches Merewyn buried under their cloaks, with the altar cloth and one of the torn-down wall hangings on top. ‘How is she?’